


The Unthinkable

by Count_Snarcula



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Banter, Birthday Presents, Developing Relationship, Humor, M/M, Movie: Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl, Nudity, Roses, Scheming, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:07:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29902938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Count_Snarcula/pseuds/Count_Snarcula
Summary: James Norrington likes to run a tight ship, but with Jack Sparrow onboard, things tend to get a little… loose.
Relationships: James Norrington/Jack Sparrow
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	The Unthinkable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tiofrean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiofrean/gifts).



> If brainstorming ideas for a Sparrington fic can be compared to hewing wood, this story is a splinter that flew off straight into me brain and got stuck, making all the gray matter leak right through me ears. 
> 
> Dedicated to Tiofrean. Thank you for being an awesome friend!

When James Norrington spotted a little deserted island going up in flames in the middle of the ocean, he immediately suspected - no, he just _knew_ \- that Elizabeth Swann had something to do with it. After the attack on Port Royal, his crew had been looking for the Governor’s daughter like their lives depended on it, combing through the Caribbean waters while pushing the Dauntless to her very limits. What the Commodore did not expect, however, was to find his damsel in distress in the company of a _damoiseau_ in distress - an irritating, fidgety, loudmouthed pirate, better known as Jack Sparrow.

“A wedding! I love weddings!” The eccentric buccaneer announced after Elizabeth had, quite unexpectedly, accepted Norrington’s marriage proposal. “Drinks all around!” He cheered, earning himself a stern glare from the officer. “I know. Clap him in irons, right?”  
Ignoring that last part, James held his head up high, a glint of determination visible in his eyes.   
“Mr. Sparrow, you will accompany these fine men to the helm and provide us with the bearing to Isla de Muerta,” he ordered, his hands clasped together behind his back. “You will then spend the rest of the voyage contemplating all possible meanings of the phrase _silent as the grave._ Do I make myself clear?”

Norrington’s tone left no room for interpretation as to which meaning of the phrase he specifically had in mind, and Jack’s enthusiasm faltered slightly.  
“Inescapably clear,” he replied in a suave voice, before being escorted to the helm.  
James cleared his throat, which suddenly became as dry as a desert - most likely due to the excitement of his engagement to Miss Swann. Yes, that, and the arid Caribbean weather.

-&-

Jack had found himself in numerous tricky situations throughout his long, swashbuckling career, so being locked up in a Navy ship’s brig while having no leverage or an escape plan was nothing new for him - it was just a matter of finding the enemy’s weakness and waiting for an _opportune moment_ to exploit it. 

The moment arrived faster than he had expected when two familiar guards came in for the night shift, and Jack quickly recognized the pair of nincompoops from the Port Royal dock, where he had once almost _borrowed_ a ship right from underneath their noses. The pirate licked his lips like a hungry wolf as he overheard them talking about the Commodore’s upcoming birthday and their lack of ideas for an appropriate gift, the cogs already turning in his head. 

“Why would you buy ‘im a hat?” The slimmer officer asked, scratching his head. “He’s already got one!”  
“You got a better idea?!” The rounder one replied, irritated. “And don’t say _a puppy_ again, or-”  
“What’s wrong with a puppy?! Everyone loves puppies!”  
“What if the Commodore is a _cat_ person?!”   
“Gentlemen,” Jack interrupted, his slim fingers snaking around the iron bars, dark eyes peering at the redcoats intently, “I may have a solution to yer troublesome conundrum.”

The two guards turned their heads sharply in his direction before exchanging suspicious glances.  
“Nobody asked you, _Mr. Smith!”_ The plump man retorted, clearly distrustful of their prisoner.  
“I don’t think that’s his real name,” his comrade muttered, then squinted at Jack, “is it, Mr. Sparrow?”  
“How d’you know Sparrow is his real name? He could have lied about that too!”  
“The Commodore said so.”  
“When?”  
As the two continued their petty squabble, Jack couldn’t help but roll his eyes. There was no time to be wasted - he knew he needed to take advantage of the opportunity and strike while the iron was still hot.  
“Gents!” He chimed in, commanding their attention once more, “gents, while me real name is irrelevant at this point, what _is_ relevant is the fact that I, whatever me name is, can _help_ you help _yourselves.”_

The officers frowned in confusion, their brains working hard to keep up with Jack’s rapid onslaught of words.  
“What d’you mean, help ourselves?” The slimmer guard asked, and a sly grin flickered across Jack’s face.  
“Help yerselves to a promotion, naturally,” he explained in a low voice, like the biblical serpent tempting Eve to eat of the forbidden Tree. “Ye see, a perfect gift for the Commodore - a freshly engaged Commodore, mind ye - will undoubtedly put him in a very good mood. A generous, officer-praising, promotion-granting mood, savvy?”  
“And what would a _pirate_ know about gift-giving?” The pudgy guard inquired.  
Jack chuckled. “I happen to possess an incredibly intuitive sense of the male creature,” he started, but was met with two pairs of dumbfounded, unblinking eyes, “meaning - I know _exactly_ what a man like our beloved Commodore wants the most.”  
“And what’s that?”  
  


Jack paused, trying to come up with something that would be beneficial to his situation, but then, an idea popped into his head.  
“We will be making port on t’ way to Isla de Muerta, will we not?”  
“Yes,” the slimmer guard confirmed over-eagerly, earning a hard elbow to his side.  
“Shhhh, prisoners are not s’possed to know that!” The other man admonished in a hushed tone before turning to Jack. “Make no mistake, you’ll be spending that time right here, in the brig, Mr. Pirate!”  
“Aye, no doubt,” Jack replied, scratching his chin, “but ye two can spend that time being very productive, making sure the Commodore’s birthday and his upcoming _honeymoon_ are, shall I say, unforgettable. Now, here’s what ye need to do...”

-&-

After getting the necessary supplies from the Tiago Port, the Dauntless was ready to set sail again and resume her voyage to the mysterious phantom isle, where William Turner was presumably held captive by Barbossa’s band of misfits. Commodore Norrington had a lot of work that day, practically never leaving the quarterdeck, barking orders left and right, making sure his men got everything they needed for the rescue mission. The officers looked like red ants in their vibrant uniforms, busying themselves with carrying boxes, scrubbing the floors, tightening ropes, and trimming the sails. 

It was late afternoon when the ship finally set off, and James could already feel the strain of the busy day taking its toll on him. Still, he needed to keep up the appearances as his future father-in-law was silently watching his every move, so far impressed by his professionalism, diligence, and leadership skills. While James appreciated the Governor’s approval, he felt it was his duty to set a good example for his men and prepare his crew for whatever the Island of the Dead had in store for them. Which reminded him, he needed to learn as much as he could about that place and its occupants - their weaknesses, their strong points, possible blind spots, hidden weapons, anything he could find out before the inevitable battle - and the only person who had that kind of information was a certain infuriating pirate…

With a heavy sigh, James called out to a pair of officers, who had been scurrying back and forth between the lower and the upper levels of the ship all day, acting somewhat… suspiciously.   
“You there, Mr. Mullroy and Mr.... Murtogg, is it?”  
“Sir?” The two stood at attention, awaiting orders.  
“Bring Mr. Sparrow to my quarters for questioning, immediately.”  
The men froze rigid, mouths agape.  
“Your… your quarters, sir?” The heavier man - Mullroy - asked in a shaky voice.  
Narrowing his eyes, the Commodore held their gazes hostage as he slowly stepped down the stairs leading to the main deck.   
“Do you have a problem with that?”  
“No, no sir, no problem at all,” Murtogg sputtered, glancing nervously at his partner. “It’s just that-”  
“It’s just that... the filthy pirate will stink up your lovely quarters, sir.”  
“You do have a point,” James mused, “but it’s a cross I’ll have to bear.”  
When the soldiers failed to move, though, he raised his voice again. “Sparrow. My quarters. Now!”  
  


With that, the moronic duo scuttled off, muttering something nervously under their breaths, and James shook his head in irritation.  
 _The Navy used to have much higher admission standards,_ he thought bitterly, placing his hand on the doorknob of his cabin. He was about to enter when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw his fiancée leaning against the rail, looking longingly at the sun setting over the horizon. He approached her gingerly, mindful not to startle her. 

“Elizabeth? Are you alright?” He asked, prompting her to put on her best quazi-smile that was never quite able to reach her eyes.   
“James, I… I’m great! Very happy.”  
The frown that marred his forehead must have been quite considerable, for she looked away slightly embarrassed and an awkward silence fell between them.  
“I’m just worried about Will. As a friend of course!” She finally added, forcing another grimace.   
“Of course,” he echoed sadly, not convinced in the slightest. He could almost feel his heart bleeding out - and _hers_ as well. “Elizabeth, if… if your answer wasn’t sincere-”  
“It was!” She insisted, a bit too hastily, but before James had a chance to say anything else, an ear-grating voice boomed from behind him.  
  


“Commodore! ‘S a lovely day, ain’t it? Hello Lizzie!”  
Rolling his eyes, Norrington turned to face the pirate, who sauntered around the deck casually like he owned the ship, the two dim-witted officers stumbling clumsily after him. To James’ dismay, they looked more like his personal entourage rather than well-trained guards responsible for… _guarding_ him.  
“Mr. Sparrow-”  
“Captain,” he corrected brazenly, “and I ‘ave to say, for such a lovely vessel, the brig could use some work, honestly.”  
Huffing loudly, Norrington grabbed him by his upper arm, and dragged the menace with him.  
“Let’s go, _Captain_ Sparrow, we have important matters to discuss.”  
  


Ignoring his officers’ weak protests, James opened the door to his cabin and shoved the insolent buccaneer inside.  
“Now, you are going to-” He started to say, then paused when his eyes registered the state of his quarters, his voice stuck in his throat as shock and bemusement momentarily clouded his mind.  
  


His cabin… it got redecorated to... what James could only imagine a Venecian brothel would look like, with red satin sheets spread over his cot, lacy cushions lying on top of it, burgundy drapes hanging over the tall windows, and roses… roses everywhere, on the floor, on the table, on his bed, _over_ his bed…  
“What on God’s green earth is this?!” The pitch of James’ voice was unusually high, dangerously close to a squeak in fact, his left eye twitching uncontrollably.  
“God had no’thin’ t’ do with it,” Sparrow beamed, looking around the place proudly, “but I’ll tell ye this, ye men are very good at following directions.”  
“What?!” Norrington turned his head sharply, glaring daggers at Jack, feeling his blood boil at that point.  
“Happy birthday, Commodore-”  
“Do. Not. Even. Move.” James growled through gritted teeth, index finger pointing at the pirate’s face, then stormed out of his cabin and locked the door behind him with a sturdy key, making sure the sneaky bastard wouldn’t escape while he was busy strangling his men. 

It took Norrington a while to gather his officers on the main deck and give them a proper dressing-down, with threats of demotions and scrubbing latrines at Fort Charles thrown around freely. He was so caught up in his rage that he almost forgot about the instigator of the entire mess, still locked up in James’ quarters, probably enjoying every second of the commotion he had created. 

Making a mental list of all the possible insults and punishments he was going to bring upon the pirate, Norrington fumbled with the key to his cabin before barging inside. He was about to let him have it, give him an earful, stick it to him when-

 _Blank._ His mind drew a blank upon seeing - perhaps hallucinating - no, actually _seeing_ Jack Sparrow splayed out in his bunk, wearing nothing but his bandana, his private parts barely covered by the bedding’s soft fabric that left very little to the Commodore’s imagination. 

It was funny how a person’s brain was capable of completely shutting down, all snuffed out like candlelight, when faced with the kind of level of absurdity and audacity only the mad pirate could, and dared to, generate around himself. 

James just stood there, motionless, rooted to the spot like a gawking statue, while Jack stretched like a lazy cat and rolled to his side, smiling at the Commodore seductively. His tanned, well-defined body was covered in various tattoos, mysterious and exotic just like their owner. There were several scars visible there too, some old and faded, some relatively fresh, each holding their own story of hardship and adversity. 

The officer fought an internal battle - and failed miserably - to stop himself from staring, but only did he snap out of his trance when a knock on the door made him jump.  
“Commodore,” Governor Swann called out, knocking again, before he allowed himself to turn the knob and step inside. He barely managed to get a foot in, however, as he bumped straight into Norrington, who had thrown himself forward to block his way, and - _By the grace of God!_ \- obscure his view of the interior. 

“Governor, now… now is not a good t-time,” James stuttered, using his body to practically push the older man out, before shutting the door in his face with a loud bang.  
“Commodore, what is the meaning of this?” Swann asked, confused and more than a little upset by the rude behavior. “I’d like to talk to you about-”

“I’m terribly sorry, sir,” Norrington interrupted, locking the cabin hastily from the inside, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. He suddenly realized what it truly meant to be caught between a rock and a hard place.  
  
Speaking of hard places, Jack slowly stood up from the bed, the red sheets discarded completely, and presented himself to the Commodore in all his naked glory, making the officer’s ears burn.  
“Get dressed you fool,” James hissed, voice hushed but slightly panicky, then faced the door again to address Governor Swann in what he hoped would be a more convincing tone. “Sir, I… something came up - _down!_ I mean, there’s an issue I have to deal with…”

“Are you alright in there? I have to say, I’m quite concerned.”  
“No, no, everything’s fine in here!“ James laughed nervously while silently begging the heavens for the stubborn man to leave. When, after a long moment, Norrington finally heard him walk away, muttering something about _proper etiquette,_ he let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding.

Whipping around angrily to confront the pirate, he was taken by surprise by a pair of dark eyes staring straight into his green ones, Jack’s close proximity almost making him yelp.  
“Did I scare ye, Commodore?” Sparrow whispered innocently, his unclad body practically rubbing against his.  
Wordlessly pushing him away, James sprinted to the other side of the cabin, his heart racing in his chest, his mind trying to find a way out of this situation with his reputation intact. 

“You! You… get your things and get out!” He finally managed to splutter out, pointing at Jack’s garments strewn all over the floor.  
“She doesn’t love ye, ye know,” the man responded, completely disregarding his order, sauntering his way back to him shamelessly. “Her little rum-hating heart belongs to the blacksmith.”  
“I don’t recall asking for your opinion on the matter,” James growled, perplexity quickly turning into anger, though his back was still firmly pressed against the wall, as if trying to blend in with the wooden boards.   
“It’s her loss really,” the buccaneer continued, unfazed, his fingertips finding their way to the Commodore’s arms, sliding up all the way to his shoulders. The officer gulped loudly, frozen to the spot.  
“Pretty sure he’s a eunuch,” Jack murmured, his mouth coming dangerously close to James’ lips, eliciting a slight shudder. “Yer not a eunuch, are ye?”  
With that, he reached down and did the unthinkable…. he grasped… _the unthinkable,_ and James saw stars.  
“Yeah, I thought so,” Jack noted with satisfaction, never realising his grip.  
  


All of a sudden, the room became incredibly stuffy, and James had a vague realization it was harder and harder to take a full lung of air. He tried not to think about the ridiculousness of the fact that a buck-naked pirate was standing in his rose-filled cabin, seducing him, holding him by... the unthinkable!  
“Sparrow, what are you-” He breathed out with much difficulty, but Jack shushed him by placing a soft kiss against his lips, his palm squeezing the very thing that begged to be squeezed. Norrington’s knees almost gave out. 

Once Sparrow’s attention shifted to his neck, James heard himself say - between sharp inhales and shaky exhales - something about not letting himself be manipulated, and Jack’s charms not working on him, and how inappropriate this whole thing was, but the pirate was not discouraged in the slightest. In fact, he doubled down on his efforts, and soon, before James realized what was happening, his wig and the top part of his uniform just _vanished_ into thin air. 

“We can’t… we shouldn’t...” he tried meekly, but Sparrow silenced him again, the kiss deeper and stronger this time, making James’ whole body tremble. 

Closing his eyes, Norrington felt his palms brush against Jack’s shoulder blades, hesitant to make contact, as if afraid they would be scorched by the man’s skin. After a while, his hands dared to travel further down south, reaching as far as his lower back, where some rubbing was in order. When a low moan escaped Jack’s mouth, James felt like he could lose himself in that sound completely. He wanted to - _needed_ to - regain some control of the situation and show Sparrow who was in charge here. After all, he wasn’t going to let a pirate dominate him on his own ship!

With that in mind, his fingers danced shyly around Jack’s bum, venturing closer and closer to his opening, before gaining the confidence to delve deeper, making the buccaneer gasp loudly. 

_So, it’s as simple as that, huh?_ James mused, smirking to himself. 

Encouraged by the man’s reaction, he grabbed a handful of Jack’s hair and tilted his head back slightly, gaining access to his collarbone. Surprise flashed briefly in Sparrow’s eyes, but he didn’t protest, allowing the Commodore’s lips to have their fun. The shipless Captain tasted like seawater and smelled like rum, though he couldn't have had any for days.... or could he?  
  


“Glad to see how much yer enjoying this,” Jack quipped, gold teeth flashing in the dim candlelight.  
“Shut up,” Norrington mumbled, then, without thinking, grabbed him by the hips and scooped him up, their bodies pressed up against one other tightly. The pirate wrapped his legs around James’ waist and let himself be carried across the cabin while his tongue eagerly resumed exploring all the nooks and crannies of the Commodore’s mouth. They continued their passionate kiss, hands roaming all over, until Jack felt his back crash against the door, the wooden frame protesting with a loud rattle. 

James didn’t know what had possessed him to do it - perhaps Sparrow’s madness was contagious - but everything about that moment felt like a weird dream, and he was too far gone to wake up from it just yet. He didn’t care that the noise could have alerted the men outside, he didn’t care that Jack was his prisoner, hell, he didn’t even care his entire career was in jeopardy - all that mattered at that point was how _good_ it felt to be so close to someone, to be touched and caressed in all the right places.  
  


When Jack’s hand reached down to unbuckle Norrington’s belt, the officer twirled around and moved them to his bed, taking charge of the situation once more.  
“Ye like to be comfortable, I see,” the pirate commented as James unceremoniously dropped him down on the cot, the impact causing the rose petals to bounce up and down.  
“Please, don’t talk,” the Commodore replied curtly, not wanting Jack’s mindless prattle to spoil the moment. It was better to leave things as surreal as they were, with no unnecessary distractions dragging him back to reality. Apparently, Sparrow failed to grasp that concept.  
“There’s no reason to be nervous, Commodore,” he continued babbling, “though, I can see how ye’d be a little intimidated by me _douceur.”_  
Rolling his eyes, James figured the only way to get Jack to shut his big mouth was to make good use of his own. Pushing the pirate’s knees apart, he took a deep breath and leaned down, ready to-

“Oh my god!” A female voice squeaked, and Norrington’s head shot up so fast, his vision got blurred for a few seconds. Once it cleared, he saw his soon-to-be _wife_ standing in the door, eyes wide and mouth agape, shell-shocked beyond belief.  
“Elizabeth… this… I… it...” James stammered, eyes darting between her and the infuriatingly smug Jack, words failing him completely.  
“I... just wanted to see if...” she sputtered, cheeks flushed to a bright red, “if… well, _obviously_ you’re doing just fine.”

“No, Elizabeth, please, let me explain!” He pleaded, which must have seemed even more ridiculous, seeing as his body was yet to move a muscle, still bent over the nude pirate.  
“It’s alright, James,” she said, her voice slightly calmer, if a bit high-pitched. “I guess, the heart wants what it wants... I would know.” And just like that, without waiting for Norrington’s reply, she slipped out of the cabin quickly, pulling the door shut behind her.

It took James a minute to gather his scrambled thoughts, and oddly enough, the first coherent thing that came to his mind was that he had, beyond a shadow of a doubt, locked the door behind him earlier. Was it possible that the key had been accidentally turned over when… No! _Someone_ must have done it _on purpose,_ and that someone was-  
  


“I’m guessing the wedding’s off then, eh?” Jack quipped, all happy and content, stretched comfortably between James’ legs, both hands folded behind his messy dreadlocks.  
Norrington ground his teeth together. “You evil bastard, you planned this whole thing from the start, didn’t you?”  
The pirate shrugged innocently, then snaked his arms around James’ neck and pulled him into another hungry kiss, rolling them over in the process. In the blink of an eye, the Commodore found himself splayed on his back, with Jack on top of him, straddling his lap.  
“I’m still mad at you!” James panted out, not sounding as convincing as he would have liked.  
“I certainly hope so.” Jack grinned, eyes glinting with desire.  
  


Truth be told, Norrington was still a little bit upset over his short-lived engagement to Miss Swann, but when he felt Jack’s warm breath ghost over… _the unthinkable,_ he surprised himself with how quickly he got over it. 


End file.
